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Anthony H. View Drop Down
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Direct Link To This Post Topic: Avant-Garde Slam Pseudo-Poetry!
    Posted: July 23 2010 at 14:37
Write one line of a poem. Try to make as little sense as possible. Don't stop in mid-thought like you would in a "Silly Story" thread; write a complete line. You can continue the theme of the line above you, or you can write something entirely irrelevant and random. Star

I'll start:

The apples of winter tasted putrescent.



Edited by Anthony H. - July 23 2010 at 14:40
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 23 2010 at 14:47
The taïkos went berserk and stormed the place.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 23 2010 at 14:48
If life was a two-story tall barber shop, would Darwin have been wrong?
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 23 2010 at 16:32

Pringles.

Underclothes.
 
The beaver
   sees certain
     things that I
       cannot see
         because I am
            not the beaver.
 
Salt.
 
Muffins.
 
.....but then again, how do I know for sure?
"WAAAAAAOOOOOUGH!    WAAAAAAAUUUUGGHHHH!!   WAAAAAOOOO!!!"

-The Great Gig in the Sky
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 23 2010 at 16:36
Originally posted by Tarquin Underspoon Tarquin Underspoon wrote:

Pringles.

Underclothes.
 
The beaver
   sees certain
     things that I
       cannot see
         because I am
            not the beaver.
 
Salt.
 
Muffins.
 
.....but then again, how do I know for sure?
"You don't" said the polythlene jackrabbit.  "But what do I know, for I am just a chome-plated megaphone pushed down the river of silence."
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 23 2010 at 16:40
I went to heaven with the rabbit, and Christ offered us his gun collection.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 01:40
I felt as though I could have defied gravity itself. So I did coz i'm so badass.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 01:48
The pre-pubescent wombat trod stealthily, knowing his destiny was unquestionably linked to Gandalf's left trouserleg
It's not that I can't find worth in anything, it's just that I can't find worth in enough.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 01:49
This is a poem
It does not exist.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 01:51
Just like the "goals for" column of the New Zealand World Cup team 2010, said ArchimedesWink
It's not that I can't find worth in anything, it's just that I can't find worth in enough.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 01:54
They entered the stadium as others
They left as equals

They entered the stadium as others
They left as dream makers

They entered the stadium as hopefuls
They left as the defeated

But they were still more of a team than England.


(And were unbeaten).
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 01:58

Clap

She offered her honour
He honoured her offer
And all the night long
He was on her and off her
 
Said the tortoise to the hare just before chucking out time in the bar
It's not that I can't find worth in anything, it's just that I can't find worth in enough.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 02:02
He left, softly on the dull shrug of an eternal concrete mixer.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 02:06
Porphyria never really stood a chance, did she? Said the doorstep delivery guy as he swooned in the presence of the three-toed sloth
It's not that I can't find worth in anything, it's just that I can't find worth in enough.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 02:13
I gnaw on the foot of courage.
 
My teeth. Laugh.
 
Ha ha ha ha.
 
Ha ha.
 
Ha.
 
 
 
 
Ha.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
....ha.
"WAAAAAAOOOOOUGH!    WAAAAAAAUUUUGGHHHH!!   WAAAAAOOOO!!!"

-The Great Gig in the Sky
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 02:26
"I have drunk entirely too much whisky in order to coherently complete this thought" thought the bearded man.

"ah," pondered the mustachioed monkey  "but you mean drank, do you not?"

"Well, I'm drunk, aren't I" replied the bearded man, cautiously thumbing the numbness out of his own nose.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 02:30
My girlfriend said I was a pedophile the other day...

I told her that was a very big word for an eight year old.

And then she beget numerous swans, whom flew in unison toward the beating sun, 'til all were cooked, dead.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 02:36
This is a Haiku
it is pretty bad for a
weathered haiku
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 03:56
"so," continued the swimming pheasant, "as you have no doubt noticed by now, my heart is a hand grenade; every beat could potentially kill you and me both"

"Perhaps," mumbled Jacob, totally ignoring his charge, "I could woo her with my nasal tracts"

But we all know the end results, or lack thereof.


Edited by Captain Clutch - July 24 2010 at 03:57
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: July 24 2010 at 04:38
(No I did NOT read any of the above lines.)
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